


when i’m sad oh god i’m sad

by SpaceKid



Series: flashlight [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Gen, Hockey AU, Mental Illness, Self Harm, Suicidal Intent (but not Attempt), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, University AU, let me know if I missed anything, miscommunications on Shared Trauma, undiagnosed mental illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2020-12-20 22:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21064103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceKid/pseuds/SpaceKid
Summary: Remus has undiagnosed Bipolar Disorder and is dealing with a severe depressive episode in the aftermath of realizing that binge drinking with D wasn’t just his own search to Feel Something, but was also D’s relapse into alcoholism. Remus comes to the realization of lost time during manic episodes and refuses help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> follows a very similar timeline to @tearxofink‘s fic Rules for a Functioning Alcoholic but will prob have differences (such as no established relationships) and takes place in @illogicallyinclined‘s hockey au

Remus doesn’t think he’s ever felt happy in his life. 

But that can’t be true. He’s sure it wasn't even two months ago he swore he’d never felt sad before in his life and he knows that one wasn’t true either.

Though, right now the younger Prince twin couldn’t even be certain he feels sad right now. He can identify some feelings, like dizziness (he stumbles through the lobby doors, it’s too bright out its giving him a headache that better not be a hangover), guilt (“Do you even think about anyone but yourself?” No, Virgil, you know Remus better than that. “You know how hard getting sober was the first time, D suddenly taking you out to the bar during the week didn’t raise any flags?” It didn’t, Remus is too self absorbed), and most importantly something he can’t quite label that came in through his lungs smoother than the cheap cigarettes he hates (but uses as an excuse to turn himself into a human ashtray) and settled deep inside him just under a month ago (weeks before D suggested goiung to the club on w Tuesday evening for the first time in almost a year) and it's getting heavier and heavier every day. Possibly, relief was felt when he was greeted by a totally empty apartment instead of a holier-than-thou brother trying to enforce ‘responsibility’ and his first real friend whom he recently enabled in a relapse. 

The normally obnoxious and loud man silently rides the elevator to their floor, tripping over his own feet as he exits not even offering a head bop to the cheesy elevator music. He enters the apartment and slams the door harder than necessary but can’t bring himself to feel bad. There's no elegance or emotion to closing his door, landing on his bed full clothed after barely kicking off his shoes and grabbing the controller to turn on Netflix and select the first Saw movie.

* * *

It’s halfway through the second movie when he hears someone return home and make what is probably lunch before leaving again. He takes a moment to wonder if his professors or classmates notice his absence or if they’re just thankful for it. He’s sober and he feels the burns on his ankles and arms throb in time with his black eye. God he wishes he wasn’t, but pissed off his last more-than-a-little-sketchy friend and he doesn’t have the energy to find the stash he knows D hid in the apartment somewhere.

* * *

Just as Saw II ends and the third begins, he opens his window and lights up a cigarette with a lighter he knows he stole from someone. The smoke coats his throat and the terrible burning taste of nicotine sticks to the roof of his mouth, the headrush barely makes it worth it. Remus considers maybe he needs something stronger, Virgil seems like the type to secretly smoke weed. Wandering minds think about the movie he just watched and the classic needle pit, he certainly isn’t afraid of needles. He slams his head into the glass of his window and takes another drag. The reality of that thought would be a bigger issue than many things he’s done, it’s not often that he rejects things his brain throws at him. He stares out the window and a group of students pass and he sees the exact moment they smell his shitty cigarettes as they look around and glare when they see him. He realizes how often people look at him like that and it feels like the first time that it bothers him. He puts the cigarette out in his lower calf and holds it there until the darkened skin and burning pain is all he can think about

* * *

The fifth movie ends marking around 10 hours of blankly staring at the screen. He’s only wearing boxers and the ratty t-shirt he’s been wearing for days. Both roommates are home. The group chat is going off Remus briefly saw a few messages, a reminder about practice Thursday morning, Patton looking for baking suggestions, Virgil asked if anyone heard from Remus because they didn’t finish their discussion.

Remus mutes the chat for the first time and when his phone falls off the bed, doesn't bother reaching for it.

* * *

The eighth movie ends. It’s been darkout for awhile, though he isn’t sure quite how long. Remus really feels as if his body has melted and merged with the bed. He hopes he’s dying. He eats stale chips he had hidden in his nightstand and can’t even get out of bed to smoke half a cigarette and put it out on his exposed thigh.

He falls asleep after silencing his brain as best as he can right now.

* * *

The next time he wakes up the sun is either setting or rising. He doesn’t really care. The hockey player doesn’t really know if he's stayed still this long, almost ever. If he thinks about it though he is pretty sure he did this last spring. He’s also pretty sure no one noticed last time either. Sleeping seemed to have helped a little and he figured he could probably make a trip to the bathroom and maybe the kitchen if he’s lucky, he noticed that pizza box under his bed is smelling pretty terrible. It’s been four days since he was home spoke to anyone, and no one has checked in on him. He hasn’t left his room since his return, the gatorade bottle of piss is evidence of such. And miraculously, he actually manages to throw out the pizza, steal a ziplock bag full of Roman’s cereal, and use the bathroom. While washing his hands he stares at the shower and decides it’s waited four days, it can wait one more. Just before heading back to his room, Remus swipes the mickey of vodka he saw behind the flour. 

* * *

He watched the sun rise through his half open blinds and doesn’t remember the last time he saw the sun rise. Remus had yet to touch the vodka, mostly because it hit the floor hours ago and he’s pretty sure he can deal for a few more hours. Today marks day five in a world without Remus Prince opening his fucking mouth to say some dumb shit that probably hurt someone and he didnt even notice. Remus can’t bring himself to care. He can’t stop thinking about how no one has asked about him since. He read the groupchat, Remus knows he’s a nosey bitch, no one has asked about him since a halfhearted response from Roman implying he hadn’t been gone long enough to worry. This sparks a kind of exhausted anger and Remus feels no amount of guilt for stealing his brothers vodka. The smoke weighing him down from inside lulls him back into the bone deep fatigue with no release.

* * *

It’s night again, likely early in the morning. Remus’s head is a deep echoing cave of different ways he could die if he just got out of bed. He’s been thinking about the hunting knife he swiped at someone’s house party months ago, for a few hours maybe. He’s had many thoughts like this before, about how fragile human skin is, about how fun it could be to slice open, how warm his own blood would be as it flowed out and he could reach in and feel his final breath. 

God, does he want that. His hand reaches out and grabs his chest pulling on any skin he can grip onto as tight as he could. He’s never been good at anything, he knows he has never been a good person, he can’t stop circling around what Roman could possibly mean that Remus hasn’t been gone for long enough to worry when he’s so sure he’s never been gone more than three days. His phone though, if he goes back far enough in his phone, he thinks Roman is right. Google Maps places him in places he doesn’t recognize in cities he’s never been to. His chest seizing up in a way he’s only seen on others. 

He’s always been able to hold onto even if his parents didn’t love him, even if no one ever liked him or missed him, that Remus Prince was never fake, he never played nice, he never pretended to be someone he wasn’t he never hid his feelings about anything. If anyone asked him, he’d tell them and it’s their fault if it hurt their feelings. But, how can that be true now? Who is he on these days he doesn’t remember. 

Forgetting where he was or getting distracted midway through a task or conversation were always normal for him, the ADHD if he had to guess; but the realization it wasn’t minutes or even hours that he forgot upsets him in a way he didn’t think he could recognize. Remus thinks that this might be the closest he would ever get to understanding how so many people fear him. and he does not like it at all.

The knife is so close. He lights a cigarette. No one else is awake yet. No one has realized he’s even at home. How long would it take to find him? Days? Weeks? How long is he usually gone? Would the smell be what finally pulled someone into to check on him? He puts the cigarette out on his leg. He knows the knife is in the bottom drawer of his desk under old notebooks and packs of pens dumped loosely inside. It’s less than five feet away. He wants it.

He sits up, swings his legs numbly off the side of the bed and stands up. It feels like the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. In a mere three steps forward he sits down on the ground behind his desk chair to wretch open the drawer and sees just how messy it is. His phone goes off and he pulls it by the wire to check, a reminder for practice at 6am. He shoots Coach an apology text for missing practice for the first time in his hockey career and throws his phone back towards the bed. His body feels so heavy as he shoves a hand roughly into the drawer to search for the knife, frustration when he can’t immediately find it leads to him slamming his head into the wooden desk leg before letting it fall onto the chair cushion as his hand wiggles around for a few moments, each second filling him with aimless anger. The drawer slams shut and he flops onto the floor. 

He can’t even find the energy to kill himself. Pathetic. He glares at the desk from his place on the cool floor until the fatigue brings him back to sleep. 

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

There are a number of places that are simply uncomfortable to sleep. Barely sitting up and using the chairs provided by the previous tenants as a pillow is certainly one of them. It takes Remus a moment to identify what woke him up as there's another round of knocking on his door and he doesn’t want to respond. It’s bright out,the sun is blocked from his figure by the curtains covering most of the windows. He hears Roman’s muffled voice as the locked doorknob jiggles, “See? I told you he’s not here, Virge. There’s nothing to be worried about, if he doesn’t show up by tomorrow I’ll go look for him. You know how he is”.

Their footsteps move away and Virgil speaks, “Can you text him? I’m just worried, Thomas said that-” his voice fades as they enter the kitchen.

Remus can barely pick himself off the floor before his phone lit up with a notification.

**the shittier twin: ** You good? LMK when you’re coming home, Virgil is lowkey freaking out ( _ received: 10:14) _

He stares at the words willing his brain to focus as he decides, maybe he should reply. 

He sends a photo of a fat pigeon he took outside a club him and D got kicked out of a few weeks ago. It would be clear that the picture was taken at a different time, but does get message of ‘I’m alive’ across. Which is about as much as Remus is willing to communicate to people that haven’t even tried to contact him before now. How sad is it that his twin brother didn’t even check on him until six days later. Or maybe he should be asking if it’s sad that after four days Roman still hasn’t noticed that he’s home, or that it took Roman six to even ask? Remus spends all this time in the theatre and in the arts studio, and still Roman was the only one to ask, though at the request of someone who wants to get mad at him. He considers if maybe that he is a bad person, and that isn’t something he normally would care about, but if he weren’t then people might have checked on him. He usually hangs out with D almost everyday and he swears he’s never been gone more than maybe four days. But no one else seems concerned at all. 

He considers reasons why this might be and gets stuck on Roman’s comment that he hasn’t been gone that long, and the implications then of him being gone longer. Things that don’t really make sense, but he knows losing your train of thought and getting distracted is a part of ADHD, but maybe, this is much more concerning. How does he know that he’s only ever been gone so long, maybe those lapses are more than a few minutes of zoning out. Which leads to, does Remus know who he is during these lapses? The contrast between the two prince twins have always been clear in their behaviour, Roman who follows every word their parents whisper in his ear. The boy grew up to be an actor after years of who takes any command without thought at that chance to be on top, and revelled in praise. It’s the cowards way of survival, are you really living if you’re not you? He knows Roman wasn’t quite loving that, but he still complied. Remus has always known exactly who he is and who he always will be. But the uncertainty of who he is in those spaces that seem to be taking up more and more space, maybe he;s been following someones script too?

He’s constantly changing his mind and forgetting where he is, are his feelings his? If everything the thought he knew about himself is slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass than how does he make it stop?

* * *

Virgil slides into the recently empty chair next to Roman the second Patton gets up to ask the waitress for another round of coffee, he steals one of Roman’s sausages and speaks, “By the way, I’m catching a ride to your place with you and D”.

Roman squawks at the sausage thief, “What! Why? I already told you Remus isn’t home!”

Virgil rolls his eyes, “Yeah I know, just humour me. I went to talk to Joan before we left and Thomas said Remus texted to apologize for missing practice, he’s never done that before! I just wanna come check, you can make fun of me later or whatever.”

“Fine, whatever, I know you’d just show up anyway. I don’t think him texting Thomas means anything though, even if it is weird.”

“Well we can agree to disagree then.”

* * *

The entry to the apartment the Prince twins share with D was just as full of banter as expected. D and Roman irritating Virgil without effort but Virgil matching that with his own comebacks and determination to check on Remus. “Alright, Emo Knightmare, let’s go knock on his cave door so I can show you, again, that he isn’t home” Roman drops his bag next to the couch and heads down the shared hallway of D, Remus, and the storage closet. D walks past him with comments of a essay due tomorrow and disappears. Roman walks down and knocks on the door sternly once maintaining eye contact with Virgil knowing there will not be a response. Virgil follows him and he knocks again after a moment and jiggles the knocked door handle. “See? I told you he’s not here, Virge. There’s nothing to be worried about, if he doesn’t show up by tomorrow I’ll go look for him. You know how he is.” Roman turns and leads them back out into the living room towards the kitchen.

Virgil pauses for a moment watching the door before he follows, “Can you text him? I’m just worried, Thomas said that he actually texted to apologize for not showing up today. You know when Remus is out he never remembers to charge his phone, it just seems weird.”

Roman exhales and wordlessly pulls out his phone shooting off a text to his twin before pulling some leftovers out of the fridge to offer to Virgil despite the fact they had eaten not long ago. Virgil accepts and he puts it on two plates for the microwave. Roman’s phone vibrates on the counter with a text. The emo leans over to read and snorts, “Wait, is Remus’s name actually ‘the shittier twin’ in your phone? He just send a picture of what appears to be an obese pigeon, that doesn’t answer my question at all!”

Roman shrugs, “Of course it is, and yeah that sounds about right, it’s like he’s trying to communicate through hieroglyphics, he’s just telling us he’s fine.”

Virgil’s dark eyes examine Roman’s face for any reflection that he’s just trying to make him stop bothering him with his concern, but when he sees nothing he drops his defensiveness, “Yeah, okay, he’s your brother, he’s kind of like a cat I guess. He always comes home right?”

The microwave beeps and Roman slides the extra plate in front of Virgil, “Exactly, he’s just like this, I’ll text you when he comes back. You don’t need to worry about it, Virge.”

Virgil shoots him a small smile before taking his plate to the couch closely followed by the oldest Prince twin as they settle down with Netflix until they need to leave for their respective classes.

* * *

Roman blearily wipes his eyes as he wakes up in his dark room and rolls over to check the time. 2:34am wake up and bathroom break time. He briefly considers just rolling over and waiting four or five hours until he needs to get up for class, but decides there’s just a higher chance of getting a restless sleep the rest of the night. The hockey captain rolls out of bed standing in his room shirtless and only wearing a random pair of soft sleep pants and stumbles out of his room, crossing the living room and entry way he’s about to try the handle of the dark bathroom door when it opens to reveal a tall dark figure.

Roman jumps back with an admittedly embarrassing squawk before recognizing the dark figure to be a freshly showered, exhausted, and almost weak looking Remus. The two stood in silence for a moment, Remus not even reacting to the sight of his brother. Roman awkwardly laughed for a moment, “Holy shit, Remus! I didn't even realize you were home.” 

Remus stares emptily, moving to walk away without replying, Roman stops him with a hand on his shoulder, “Are you like, uh, okay? You kind of look like shit”

That was clearly the wrong thing to say as suddenly Remus’s face hardens into a snarl, “Oh fuck you, Roman.” His voice cracks halfway through but it doesn’t do anything to diminish the venom in his voice, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Christ! If you’re going to be an asshole then nevermind, I just wanted to check up on you. You know, like a concerned brother just might do?” Roman fires back suddenly feeling defensive. The tone of voice Remus uses almost sounds scared to him but he doesn’t have the energy to pry at Remus in the hallway less than 6 feet from D’s door at 2:30am. 

“You don’t get to play any kind of concerned brother role right now! You don’t just get to _ decide _ to be concerned one day, it’s all about appearances with you, I dont fuck with that!” Remus’s voice raises as he gets more and more riled up, his voice sounds like shit as if he hasn’t used it in days, “Tell me when you think I got home, _ Princey _, huh? You don't know shit about me and it’s time you stopped acting like you do.” He steps towards Roman edging back down the hallway to the living room.

“Why am I supposed to know when you got home?” Roman fires back, “You’re an adult! You’ve taken care of yourself fine for years, I’m not your parent I don’t need to know where you are twenty-four-fucking-seven!” 

Vaguely, Roman hears D’s bedroom door open and feels brief regret that was smashed by Remus shoving him backwards. “You don’t need to know! But, did you ever think to wonder? Did you ever _ once _ care enough to ask? No! I don’t remember ever being gone more than three or four days, but I’ve been here for what? Five? And it took Virgil for you to come check on me?”

Roman recoils for a second in confusion but counters standing his ground, “What does that fucking mean? You own a calendar, a phone, you should know your average in the last year has been like five to seven days, you can’t blame me that you decide to go on a bender every 6 months or less. Can’t you ever grow up?”

“It means I don’t know where I was for two to four of those days at least! You self absorbed prick! Fuck!” Remus crumples for a second, his facial expression looks so, lost. He violently grabs and tugs on his still damp hair. He stands back up face guarded once again. “I know, I never go out with a plan, and I have paid some _ fucking terrible _ prices for that that you never need to know about. But, you’re telling me that I was out there and I don’t remember it? And no one thought to mention anything to me? And _ you’re _ asking if I’m ‘okay’? Fuck that, fuck you. I’m going back to my room, and ideally I’ll fucking rot and die before I have to look at you again,” Remus seethes before turning and slamming his door without waiting for a response. 

Roman sags at his brothers exiting remarks, making tentative eye contact with D who waits in the dark hallway. “I don’t know what to do,” Roman says quietly.

D moves towards him moving them to the couch offering a comforting touch to the remaining twin, “Roman, I cannot tell you that I have _ any _ idea about what just happened. But, it seems like he just wants you to be there for him, in his own weird displays of affection he does love you and I think maybe he’s scared sometimes that you don’t care for him, and he lashes out. But right now, you need to go back to sleep so you can go to your boring nine am lecture, and I’ll try to spend time with him tomorrow. Sound good?” 

Roman examines D, letting himself feel vulnerable for a moment but trusts that D knows what to do. He’s known the twins since high school, if anyone knew it would be him. “Thank you, D” Roman whispers, leaning into the little affection for a moment before he stands up and moves them back down the hallway.

Roman goes to the bathroom as originally planned but thinks about the things his younger brother had said. How much is he missing? What does it mean for Remus to simply not remember days at a time? Is it because of drinking too much or something else?

As Roman tucks himself back into bed, preparing himself for the restless sleep he had been trying to avoid. His mind wanders, and he can’t help but think that maybe he should be questioning blood stains on Remus’s carpet a little more. 


End file.
